by V. T. Do
“What are you doing?” I whispered, aware of the stares coming our way.
“Taking care of you,” he answered gruffly.
“I don’t need you to take care of me. I’m fine, like I said.”
“You’re obviously not fine, or you wouldn’t grimace with every step I take.”
I schooled my expression. “It’s just some discomfort.”
He ignored me. He walked outside, and the parking attendant was already rolling his car up in front of the hotel.
“Wyatt.”
I was met with silence. The parking attendant opened the passenger door for us, and Wyatt placed me gently on the seat. He buckled me in, as if I was incapable of doing it myself, and closed the door.
I knew I could probably open the door and get out, I just didn’t have the energy to do so. And Wyatt was a persistent man.
He got into the car and pulled away. I didn’t look at him. Sweat had started to gather on my forehead, despite the cold weather outside, and I felt hot and uncomfortable. I shifted around in my seat.
It wasn’t until he had stopped at a light that he spoke. “Are you okay? Do you need anything.”
“I’m fine,” I replied without looking at him. I could feel his eyes on me. I wasn’t mad at him. I really didn’t regret what we had done. I regretted that he felt bad enough about it to try to take care of me afterward.
And that made me want to pull back. Because this felt too much like our supposed first date, when he’d shown up only for his friend. He was here, not because he wanted to be here, but because human decency demanded it of him.
The rest of the short drive to his apartment passed by in silence. Wyatt parked in the underground parking garage and got out. He opened my door and held out his hand for me. I frowned at him. “I’m not helpless.”
“I didn’t say you were.”
“Then stop treating me like I am.”
He rolled his eyes and helped me out. Then he grabbed my hand and led me to the elevator. I could do nothing more than follow him.
We rode to the twenty-third floor in silence. I squirmed, trying to alleviate some of the discomfort I felt, which didn’t escape his notice. When the doors opened on his floor, he led me to his apartment door and unlocked it.
I walked in and looked around.
It was exactly as I had imagined. Big and expensive. Clean, with masculine dark colors. Black sofas took up most of the space in his living room, which offered an open view of the equally impressive kitchen, with stainless steel appliances and a granite island. At the far end of the room were floor to ceiling windows showing off a spectacular view of New York City skyscrapers, and there was a door leading out to a huge balcony.
Wyatt didn’t let me linger in his living room. With his hand still holding mine, he led me down a hallway and into what appeared to be his bedroom.
The sight of the king-size bed made my sex throb in response, but I was still too sore to explore anything with him.
His bedroom was exactly as I had expected as well. Masculine and clean. From dark-blue bed covers to partially drawn matching curtains, with a huge cherrywood dresser taking up most of one wall. His room was lacking in any personal items, at least none that I could see, and it told me nothing about the man himself, except that he was very organized. Not a single thing was out of place.
He walked us into the large bathroom and turned on the tap. I leaned against the counter and watched as water poured into the white marble bathtub. His back was to me as he checked the temperature of the water, and I silently watched him work.
When it was filled to his satisfaction, he walked slowly over to me, as if he was afraid he might scare me.
I stood my ground.
When he got close enough, he started pulling at my clothes. I clamped my arms down. “What are you doing?”
“Taking care of you,” he answered casually, as if this was what we did on a daily basis. But this wasn’t what we did on a daily basis. When I didn’t say anything, he said, “Look, you’re too sore for sex. I’m not going to do anything until you’ve fully recovered, but right now you need to be taken care of, and I need to be the one to take care of you. Okay? At least let me do that.”
I thought about it. It wasn’t as though he hadn’t seen me naked. But back in the restroom of the hotel was different. This felt much too intimate, more than anything we had done before. I gave a small nod, and that was all he needed.
He pulled my red shirt up and over my head. My nipples tightened in response to both the cool air and his heated gaze. Though, true to his word, he didn’t try anything. His hands didn’t even linger.
He tugged at my jeans next, and like at the hotel, he pulled them down, along with my panties. A tap to my ankle, and I stepped out of them. Then I was completely naked in front of him for the first time.
Feeling self-conscious, I covered my breasts with my arms. Wyatt stared at me but didn’t say anything. The longer we stood in silence, the more nervous I became. Then he quickly removed his own clothes, and my eyes widened in response.
My mouth went dry, and I couldn’t have stopped him even if I’d wanted to. And the more skin he revealed, the more I didn’t want him to stop, until finally he stood in front of me, as naked as I was.
His skin was bronze, much darker than my fair complexion, and so perfect, even with some of the little scars I found. He was also much hairier than I was, and I became fascinated by our differences almost instantly. I loved how hard he looked compared to how soft I was. And how muscular—his arms were twice the size of my own, with dark veins swirling around in a pattern I wanted to trace with my fingers, down his hard chest, rock-hard abs, and to the V lines on either side of his waist, leading down to the most magnificent penis I’d ever seen.
Granted, it was the only penis I had ever seen.
I shouldn’t look, yet I couldn’t help myself. I wanted to know every freckle, every scar, every slight imperfection that had all contributed to this perfect man standing right in front of me.
Without another word, he pulled me into his large body, and I gasped at the sensation the skin-to-skin contact elicited. “What are we doing?” I whispered, looking up to meet his gray eyes—eyes that had turned almost pitch-black.
“Bathing together,” he answered simply. Then he led me over to the bathtub and helped me get in. He climbed in behind me, and together we sat down, with me between his legs, my back against his hard chest. The warm water surrounded me instantly, and I moaned when I felt my muscles relax. It felt like I had just finished running a marathon.
I didn’t say anything when Wyatt moved his hands. First to my belly, then upward, between my breasts, to my shoulders, finally settling on the curve of my neck. He moved my hair to the side, his thumb moving back and forth over my skin, before he moved his hands down again, this time across the expanse of my back.
I felt him grow harder and bigger against my back. A part of me wanted to move closer, to feel his length between us, and another part wanted to move away. I stayed still instead.
It wasn’t until his hands curved around my waist that he stopped. I tensed further when I felt his lips on my shoulder.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered.
“Wyatt. You have nothing to apologize for. I told you, I don’t regret how it happened. In fact, I liked it.”
“I still hurt you.” I opened my mouth in protest when he pulled me tighter into his body. His hands moved up and cupped my breasts. My nipples became erect, and my sex began to throb.
“Wyatt.”
“You’re too good. Certainly too good for me. You know that, don’t you?” I shook my head in denial, but couldn’t say anything more. I was still too focused on his hands... his fingers. I gasped when he clamped my nipples between his thumbs and forefingers. He pulled slightly. “A girl like you deserves to be worshipped for her first time. Not fucked in a public bathroom.”
I turned until I was facing him. “It was my choice. I don’t need you or anyo
ne else to worship me, just because it was my first time.” I cupped his jaw, feeling the day-old stubble there. With a frown, I added, “Please stop feeling guilty about this. I should have told you it was my first time. I didn’t. But it’s done. I’m fine.”
He pulled me in close. “Let me worship you tonight,” he said softly. “Let me do this right.”
I hesitated. What he was asking for was a full night of just him and me. And I wondered if he understood the full implication of what he was suggesting. After tonight, could we go back to the way things were? Where we just happened to be the friends of two people who were hopelessly in love with each other? Could I go back to treating him like a stranger?
There were lines that shouldn’t be cross between us, and I wasn’t entirely sure if those lines hadn’t already been crossed beyond the point of no return.
“I don’t know. Do you really think it’s a good idea?”
Wyatt brought me closer to him. “Just for tonight.”
“It’s still early yet,” I pointed out. “The sun hasn’t even set.”
He shrugged. “Then a night, give or take a few hours.”
And because he seemed to need this, needed to obliterate his unfounded guilt in some way, I said something I hoped I wouldn’t come to regret. I said, “Yes.”
One night.
I would give him and myself this one night.
Chapter Sixteen: Let Me Show You How Gentle I Can Be
Emery
Wyatt bathed me.
I couldn’t remember a time when someone else had bathed me, except when I was really little and the job was left to whoever my current nanny was.
But this was different. He sat behind me, and even though I knew he was turned on by our close proximity, he didn’t mention it.
He washed my hair first, and then used the clay pot to rinse the suds. I closed my eyes and enjoyed being in his care. No one had ever cared for me like this.
He then ran his soap-filled hands across my skin with reverence, almost as if I were the most precious thing in the world.
His hands ran over my arms, up to my shoulders, down between my breasts, and then over my ribs and belly.
“Are you sore?” he asked gently.
I blushed. “A little.” I had never had such an intimate conversation with anyone else. It made the fact that I was in the bath with him all the more surreal.
“Too sore to play around?” he asked, his voice turning gruff.
I shook my head. “Not too sore.”
“Hmm.” And then his hand circled my navel. I sucked in a sharp breath, wondering what he was going to do next, when his other hand moved up and found my breast. He tested the weight of it and squeezed.
My breathing became labored. “Wyatt.”
“I got you, Emery. You’re too sore for sex, but that doesn’t mean I can’t make you feel good. Is that okay?” I could only nod. His hand tightened around my breast. “Baby, I need you to say it. Give me your consent. I won’t ever do anything with you unless you say the word, understand?”
“Yes,” I said on a moan. “The answer is yes.”
I felt him smile before he placed a wet kiss on my temple. “Perfect.”
The hand that was on my navel moved south. I clenched my fist when I felt a small pinch on the inside of my thigh, before he cupped me fully, his fingers so close to my entrance, yet not quite there.
“I’ll be gentle,” he promised, entering me.
Problem was, I didn’t know if I wanted him to. I automatically clenched around him, and his muscles tightened behind me.
“You feel like heaven,” he whispered, his movements tortuously slow. He had the control of a saint, with the way he kept his momentum at a constant, steady pace. But we both knew the truth: he was the devil, playing with my body like he owned me.
Did I want to be owned?
The pressure built slowly, but it was no less intense than it had been in the bathroom at the hotel, when he was inside of me, fucking me.
I felt it first in my belly, a stirring before it escalated more and more each time he moved in and out, and when I reached the height of it, my body shook with the pressure I wanted so badly to release.
“Wyatt,” I said again. It sounded more like a plea coming from my lips. It sounded like a prayer.
“I got you. I can feel how slick you are, even immersed in this bath water. I bet your pussy is swollen, just begging for more from me.” And then his thumb found my clit, and I fell over the edge. The feeling was so intense, my stomach clenched to keep it from consuming me whole.
When I came back down, my head was resting on his shoulder, and he was looking down at me with something akin to amazement. “I love how sensitive you are.”
My blush deepened. He smiled. He drained the tub and rinsed our bodies a second time with fresh water from the faucet. After he made sure we were both clean, he grabbed my hand and led us out of the tub, the water dripping from our bodies and all over the tile flooring. I looked down, but he didn’t let me linger.
“I’ll take care of the mess later. Right now, I need to take care of your needs.”
With my heart in my throat, I followed him out of the bathroom, as naked as he was, leaving our mess behind on the bathroom floor. He laid me down on the bed and stood in front of me, his eyes taking in every inch of my skin.
I stared at the angry appendage between his legs, my eyes widening in admiration. Like the rest of him, he was huge. I briefly wondered how he had been able to thrust inside of me without breaking me in two.
“What about you?” I asked, licking my lips.
“We’ll worry about me later. Right now, this is all about you. I promise to make you feel good.” His eyes made their way down to my sex. “Spread your legs for me, baby.” I did as he asked. “Wider.”
Taking in a huge breath, I spread them wider, until he had a very clear view of me. “Has anyone ever gone down on you?” he asked, moving his thumb across his bottom lip, his eyes never straying from me.
“Yes. You.”
His eyes flared. “Are you saying in that bathroom was the first time you’d ever felt a man’s mouth on you?” I nodded. “Baby, you’re killing me. How have you gone so long without experiencing any of these things with anyone else?”
I shrugged. “No one’s ever been interested in me. At least, their interest was never genuine. They always wanted something from me. Whether it was just to be associated with the Caldwell name, or to make ties with my grandpa, or to get at my family’s money. I didn’t want to put myself in a vulnerable position with someone who didn’t even care about me.”
He looked in my eyes then, and I couldn’t be sure, but for a brief moment, they looked sad. “I hope that with everything we’ve done, you believe I care for you.”
I shrugged. Wyatt was hard to read. And wasn’t it just sad that I might have let him do all those things to me not because I truly believed he cared for me, but because I was insanely attracted to him and I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to experience this kind of chemistry with anyone else?
He was quiet for a moment. “I do, you know.”
“Do what?”
“Care for you.”
“Wyatt, you don’t have to say things you don’t mean.”
His eyes turned sharp, the gray irises shadowed with anger. “I wouldn’t say anything I don’t mean. I do care for you, Emery.”
I looked at him, but couldn’t find the words. Perhaps he cared for me in some capacity. Like two people who had mutual acquaintances and would see each other often enough. But to say he cared for me beyond that? I couldn’t quite grasp it.
So instead, I sat up on the bed, hooking my arms around his neck, and brought him down on top of me for a kiss.
It was this kiss.
It was always this kiss that ruined me. I remembered the first time his lips had touched mine and sent my heart into overdrive.
And when he wrapped his arms around me, pulling me into his protective embrac
e, I lost all my senses.
It was the first time I had openly admitted to myself how much he had ruined me, and how weak I had become in his arms. It made accepting my fate easier, I supposed. I mean, who was I to fight the inevitable? To fight a losing fight? Would it have made me honorable to keep fighting, even as I knew how good he was at conquering me?
It was just sex, I told myself.
Only the mantra was getting harder and harder to say each and every time we kissed.
He pulled away, looking at me with hooded eyes. I loved that look in his eyes the most. The one that told me he was just as affected by the kiss as I was.
Gently, he pushed me down on the bed, only this time he followed me. I grabbed his shoulders to keep my bearings, and when his lips moved down to my neck, my hands moved across the expanse of his broad back, feeling the muscles tense at my touch.
I pulled at his hair when he moved lower, and when he took one aching tip of my nipple into his mouth, I nearly lost it.
Wetness drenched my sex as I squirmed beneath him. I needed him. I needed more. I’d beg if only I could find my voice.
But then he moved again, leaving wet kisses down my body, and I both wanted him to slow down and speed up. When he hooked my legs over his shoulders, bearing me to his gaze, I knew he could see how wet I was. Something like male satisfaction lit up his eyes, as he once again pinch the inside of my thigh.
“Oh!”
“Emery, what am I going to do with you?” he asked, the question said in a whisper. I didn’t think I was supposed to hear that, much less answer, so I said nothing, anticipating his next move as my heart sped at a frantic pace.
“God!” I moaned when his mouth covered my sex. I grasped the bedsheets, clawing at them as I tried to control my reaction. This was even better than when he had done it in the bathroom. This was somehow so much more intimate.
My eyes closed as I screamed his name. I didn’t want to be quiet. I couldn’t.
And then I felt his tongue. I opened my eyes in surprise and found his eyes on me as he ate me out like a man starved. There was just something incredibly sexy about the sight before me.
